The history of the world will tell you what all the winners have done, and possibly what all the winners haven't done. On occasion, you might learn the truth, but more likely you'll find some disreputable claim that can't be challenged, and isn't likely to be defended in a fair manner. You'll find some obscure writings that will disparage the official accounts, but you can't possibly believe it. What if it weren't true? What a silly fool you'd be.

Personal histories will give you the one thing that world histories can't: The truth. How one man thinks can make the difference between a call to war and a call for tea. You can believe in one man more than the world. You can see a man. And this comes in handy when dealing with a question of snakes.

There is one particular parliament in all the world which the lower and unimportant classes love to attend. It is met with a particular joy that is only expressed in one particular way, though the why of this has little to do with the policies discussed on the floor or the thrill of seeing their leaders in action. Rather, they fall prey to that wonderful obsession with snakes. Not those in the seats, consuming funds and giving rather little output in their stead. No, the metaphorically over-used serpent, writhing and waiting for all the opportune moments that others might miss. Such fast creatures; so nearly admirable, with sleek and graceful movements, their gleaming scales and enduring dedication to devouring their prey; So very useful in their predictable sneaking and suspicious ways.

A favored freetime hobby of many of these peasants is discussion of how things ought to be, which usually involve cries of love for the Emperor and cries of hate for anyone who works beneath him. What other sources of interference could there be, when no one else would show such defiance and hatred for the age-old traditions! Their second favored hobby would, of course, be the caring for and study of snakes and their habits.

When these peasants, pushed by hunger, hardship, and the knowledge of loss in the great wars of Gaea, find their two hobbies not altogether pleasing, they become rather resourceful at putting them together. And the Parliament, such a beautiful, new, expensive building, is so wonderful a place for convergence. All things join together there.

Most days there are few things important that the politicians might discuss, particularly when Folken has the floor. Though being himself so much like a snake, smooth and untrustworthy, and exceptionally tall, he rather failed to interest the peasantry. Today, however, a rather important matter was to be decided on, and the usual sleepy nature of the parliament was simply content to let it slide by. Such a sorry state of affairs it might be if the movement were to pass, one on which the character of the empire depended. Must the Emperor be worshipped? Must the people follow the proper decorum of a patriot? Worse, must the war effort even continue at all? The last question was not brought up by this motion, though who could say that it wouldn't if Folken had his way?

The sleepy, sleepy floor slumbered on as Folken gave a particularly oily speech. Everyone was lost in their own little world, which particularly suited Folken. It would have been worth his while, however, to remember that the most deadly and common enemy of the snake was the lion, a proud creature relentless in the pursuit of those who threatened it, or merely made the mistake of crossing its path. One such creature waited among the peasants like so many blades of tall grass, looking for any sign of the opportunity which always captivated Folken.

"In closing, I feel that continued censure against critical speech about the Emperor or His policies must cease immediately. Only when speaking freely will people come to realize the truth, which obviously His Majesty does speak."

Another mindless politician called out that a vote was in order, such a rash and treacherous act on his part. Surely he knew there were no military men on the voting panel? Surely he knew how they felt. Most importantly, he must have known that members of the military were paragons of virtue, and therefore their opinions should be highly valued. Moreso than those snakes who would infiltrate the army and masquerade as a high general! No matter, though. No matter. The young and rather annoyed hunter had found his opportune moment and stepped forward. One thing separated the peasants from the politicians; a long, thin rail along the edge of a balcony. This was perfect for his purpose, and happily he stepped up to it. Dilandau reached into a bag he had been carrying, and removed a snake in its more recognizeable form. He sized it up, smiled, and dropped it on the unfortunate man sitting just below the railing. Being rather pleased at the reaction, he lowered the bag to the ground and let loose the rest of its contents. The parliament found itself in an uproar, and the vote was delayed. Dilandau lingered just long enough to give Folken a haughty look of disapproval (of disapproval), then left to complete his plan.

Author's notes: So, thanks for reading. Just to let you all know, this isn't the end. There shall be more, and I will go more in-depth regarding what all this is about. This is the result of a lot of studying and though it might seem a bit out of touch with the series, I hope you enjoy it.

PS: I did not make this because of "Snakes on a Plane." In WWII in Japan, peasants would amuse themselves by dropping snakes on parliament members. (See, "What to do with Japan" written by Wilfrid Fleisher, 1945) I had been wanting to write a story involving that, but I had no internet at the time and that really deters me from writing fanfic. As I am basing a good deal of my future Escaflowne works on Hirohito, Japanese officers, and the general state of things at that time, there will be a lot of things that would seem out of left field since there was nothing like it in the original series. I will try to leave notes regarding anything taken from history, and also I will list books I have taken ideas from.